An original offering from my muse.
Apr. 11th, 2006 11:03 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tikatuI mentioned in my last friends-locked post that I had written something for the 1000 Word Battle Arena forum at Lunaescence. I thought about whether or not to post it elsewhere, and finally decided to post it here, publically. (After all, I've been accused of using my blogs for pimping my fiction. Might as well fulfill expectations... **evil grin**).
Title: The Dare
Author: Tikatu
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Fandom: none; original fic
Summary: A special young man takes a dare and finds himself in a sticky situation.
Notes: Originally posted in the 1000 Word Battle Arena at Lunaescence.com. Winner of the battle with three votes.
Title: The Dare
Author: Tikatu
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Fandom: none; original fic
Summary: A special young man takes a dare and finds himself in a sticky situation.
Notes: Originally posted in the 1000 Word Battle Arena at Lunaescence.com. Winner of the battle with three votes.
He pushed and pushed, his heart pounding, his hands moving quicker than ever before. The sidewalk was uneven and cracked; the streetlights shed a feeble light through the cloying fog that surrounded the neighborhood. He bumped down a curb and crossed the alleyway, the scent of over-full dumpsters nearly making him gag. The other curb was broken down and made a sort of natural ramp. With a mighty shove, he managed to get over it and onto the sidewalk beyond. The sound of running feet beat in time to his heart, and the fog-muffled cries of his pursuers were growing closer every moment.
At the back of his mind, he knew he couldn't outrun them; running legs were much faster than self-propelled wheels. Still, if he could just get to a place where he could see farther in front of him than the two or three yards that the infrequent lighting and the fog afforded, he could put some more distance between them.
Why the hell did I come down here? he cried internally as he sped onward. This is the last time I take a dare! And I'll kill Kevin for even suggesting it!
It had seemed an easy thing to do. Go down to the waterfront and buy a drink in one of the bars there. “It'll be a cinch,” Kevin had said, tipping him a wink. “I dare you to do it.”
It hadn't been so much the dare that had brought him to the roughest part of town as it had been Kevin's snide remark. “You keep harping on how the disabled should be able to go anywhere, do anything that an able-bodied person can,” Kevin had said, crossing his dark arms over his chest. “Now you've gotta fish or cut bait, Marcus. Go down to the waterfront and have a drink.”
“How about you come too?” Marcus had suggested.
Kevin had grinned, and had shaken his head emphatically. “No. You're always complaining that when you're not alone, people ignore you and talk to whoever's with you. So, this time you're on center stage. But,” Kevin had rummaged around in a drawer and pulled out a digital camera on a lanyard, “you can take this with you to document your outing. I'll want proof.”
I'll strangle him, Marcus promised himself. He ran through an oily puddle, the foul liquid seeping into his racing gloves as he rolled onward. His grip tightened on the wheels; he was thankful once again that he'd come in his sports chair. A damp lock of fine blond hair flopped down into an eye, and he tossed his head to get it out of his sight. He couldn't spare the time to brush it back, because he could hear his pursuers.
They were gaining on him.
He pushed again, straining his arms and shoulders to the limit. All those hours in the gym, building up the muscles that kept him mobile, were paying off. He had a rhythm going now, taking him quickly down the sidewalks. His breathing went from aerobic to anaerobic with the effort to stay in the lead. The camera bumped against his chest with increasing force.
If only he had kept quiet. Just gone in, ordered the drink, quaffed it down and left. No striking up conversation with the other patrons. No lingering to absorb the ambiance. No complaining that the restrooms weren't fully accessible. And most importantly, no getting friendly with and taking pictures of the pretty waitress, whose boyfriend was sitting at a table in the corner with his cronies.
Then there wouldn't have been the name calling, or the threats. The boyfriend wouldn't have pulled out a knife, and Marcus wouldn't have punched the him in the balls. The blow had surprised the lout; Marcus was good at hiding his upper body strength, and at his level, the crotch was a natural - if not exactly sportsmanlike - target. He'd overturned a few chairs and tables on his way out, tripping up the enraged bully boys who had started chasing him. Once outside, a clear view of the sidewalk two blocks down had given him a good lead on the creeps, but that lead was slowly and surely diminishing.
Suddenly, the fog cleared a bit, and Marcus could see the parking lot of a convenience store some distance ahead. He gathered his power, and focused his intention. There was an odd ripple in the air, something that Marcus could never see, but in the blink of an eye, he had disappeared. He reappeared in the parking lot, still moving, his momentum carrying him forward as he teleported from one place to the other.
He slowed himself down, wary of colliding with cars pulling in or out. Then he smiled. His salvation was near. A city bus, handicapped accessible, brightly lit and nearly empty, was coming down the street.
He stopped rolling completely, focused his eyes on the interior of the approaching bus, and willed himself there. He materialized inside, in a clear place big enough for his wheelchair. The driver, noticing the movement behind her, looked up into her mirror and gasped. Marcus pulled out his wallet, and extracted his special bus pass, holding it up so the driver could see it. The driver nodded, and put her focus back on the road, while Marcus maneuvered his chair into the spot designated for it, locking his wheels down.
Breathing heavily, he glanced out the window. The small gang were looking around them, their expressions angry and puzzled. He smiled as the bus passed them, taking him away from the waterfront. He'd made it. Sighing with relief, he removed his sodden racing gloves and pushed back his sweaty hair. He settled down to wait until the bus got near his apartment. There he would leave in a more normal fashion, then teleport himself and his wheelchair back home... where he planned to extract an appropriate payment from his friend for the evening's misadventures.
copyright L. D. Bennett 2006
At the back of his mind, he knew he couldn't outrun them; running legs were much faster than self-propelled wheels. Still, if he could just get to a place where he could see farther in front of him than the two or three yards that the infrequent lighting and the fog afforded, he could put some more distance between them.
Why the hell did I come down here? he cried internally as he sped onward. This is the last time I take a dare! And I'll kill Kevin for even suggesting it!
It had seemed an easy thing to do. Go down to the waterfront and buy a drink in one of the bars there. “It'll be a cinch,” Kevin had said, tipping him a wink. “I dare you to do it.”
It hadn't been so much the dare that had brought him to the roughest part of town as it had been Kevin's snide remark. “You keep harping on how the disabled should be able to go anywhere, do anything that an able-bodied person can,” Kevin had said, crossing his dark arms over his chest. “Now you've gotta fish or cut bait, Marcus. Go down to the waterfront and have a drink.”
“How about you come too?” Marcus had suggested.
Kevin had grinned, and had shaken his head emphatically. “No. You're always complaining that when you're not alone, people ignore you and talk to whoever's with you. So, this time you're on center stage. But,” Kevin had rummaged around in a drawer and pulled out a digital camera on a lanyard, “you can take this with you to document your outing. I'll want proof.”
I'll strangle him, Marcus promised himself. He ran through an oily puddle, the foul liquid seeping into his racing gloves as he rolled onward. His grip tightened on the wheels; he was thankful once again that he'd come in his sports chair. A damp lock of fine blond hair flopped down into an eye, and he tossed his head to get it out of his sight. He couldn't spare the time to brush it back, because he could hear his pursuers.
They were gaining on him.
He pushed again, straining his arms and shoulders to the limit. All those hours in the gym, building up the muscles that kept him mobile, were paying off. He had a rhythm going now, taking him quickly down the sidewalks. His breathing went from aerobic to anaerobic with the effort to stay in the lead. The camera bumped against his chest with increasing force.
If only he had kept quiet. Just gone in, ordered the drink, quaffed it down and left. No striking up conversation with the other patrons. No lingering to absorb the ambiance. No complaining that the restrooms weren't fully accessible. And most importantly, no getting friendly with and taking pictures of the pretty waitress, whose boyfriend was sitting at a table in the corner with his cronies.
Then there wouldn't have been the name calling, or the threats. The boyfriend wouldn't have pulled out a knife, and Marcus wouldn't have punched the him in the balls. The blow had surprised the lout; Marcus was good at hiding his upper body strength, and at his level, the crotch was a natural - if not exactly sportsmanlike - target. He'd overturned a few chairs and tables on his way out, tripping up the enraged bully boys who had started chasing him. Once outside, a clear view of the sidewalk two blocks down had given him a good lead on the creeps, but that lead was slowly and surely diminishing.
Suddenly, the fog cleared a bit, and Marcus could see the parking lot of a convenience store some distance ahead. He gathered his power, and focused his intention. There was an odd ripple in the air, something that Marcus could never see, but in the blink of an eye, he had disappeared. He reappeared in the parking lot, still moving, his momentum carrying him forward as he teleported from one place to the other.
He slowed himself down, wary of colliding with cars pulling in or out. Then he smiled. His salvation was near. A city bus, handicapped accessible, brightly lit and nearly empty, was coming down the street.
He stopped rolling completely, focused his eyes on the interior of the approaching bus, and willed himself there. He materialized inside, in a clear place big enough for his wheelchair. The driver, noticing the movement behind her, looked up into her mirror and gasped. Marcus pulled out his wallet, and extracted his special bus pass, holding it up so the driver could see it. The driver nodded, and put her focus back on the road, while Marcus maneuvered his chair into the spot designated for it, locking his wheels down.
Breathing heavily, he glanced out the window. The small gang were looking around them, their expressions angry and puzzled. He smiled as the bus passed them, taking him away from the waterfront. He'd made it. Sighing with relief, he removed his sodden racing gloves and pushed back his sweaty hair. He settled down to wait until the bus got near his apartment. There he would leave in a more normal fashion, then teleport himself and his wheelchair back home... where he planned to extract an appropriate payment from his friend for the evening's misadventures.
copyright L. D. Bennett 2006
